Maybe
by Wollemia nobilis
Summary: Sherlock wants to have a romantic relationship with John. John has been heterosexual.
1. Realizing

Note: I don't own any of the characters from the Sherlock BBC television series, nor any of the characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This is my thoughts on 'what if John's orientation so far is heterosexual?' Any similarities to other authors' stories are unintentional, I did not check what stories are out there on this subject. If you feel like hurting or killing yourself please don't do it, speak with someone, for example you can call a crisis line!

Please note: I WILL ONLY POST ch. 1 to 5 ON FFnet because after that the rating would be MA on FFnet, which one is not allowed to post on FFnet! - This story is rated E on archiveofourown, where you can look at the tags to see whether you may want to read it. In addition to ch. 1 to 5, chapters 6 and up are already posted at: archiveofourown dot org then paste /works/3968104/chapters/8901034 after org (I'm Cyclamen on Ao3) There's a button called "Chapter Index" in the top row. A few chapters have trigger warnings!

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Realizing**

"So, Sherlock, I have a date tonight, after work!" John casually mentioned as he put his coat on - early-in-the-fall mornings could be chilly - getting ready to leave the flat. Smiling, clearly looking forward to this, Sherlock noted.

"Hm? What's her name?" He assumed it was a female since he had seen John ever only go out with females. "When and where did you meet?"

"Hold it, Sherlock. Her name's Jamie Marsden. She's quite sweet." Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. "We just met at Tesco's the other day. Her little daughter had bumped her head falling out of the shopping cart, and I offered to help, being a doctor ..."

"Hm." Sherlock sighed. "I was planning to do research for a case tonight, downtown. If you'd rather help me with that you know you're welcome to."

"Thanks for the offer. But I think I'd really rather go on a date at this time. It's been a while. Besides, Jamie already arranged for a babysitter. She's a single mom, looks forward to having a break ..."

Sherlock got the hint. "I probably won't be back till later. Have a pleasant evening, John."

"Thanks! See you later, Sherlock." And with that John was off. For some reason Sherlock felt slightly sad as the door closed behind his friend.

ooo

Sherlock tried to find things to do during the day. Sitting at the kitchen table, peering through his microscope, he tried to concentrate on his experiment, but caught his thoughts returning to John going to be on a date with to-him-yet-unknown Jamie Marsden repeatedly.

Trying to play his violin didn't go much better: he'd start playing something, but then he'd have to stop because he actually 'forgot' how the piece continued. Obviously distracted, annoyed with himself, he felt miserable and restless. Eventually he plopped on the couch.

He was relieved when it was finally time to go do the 'research' for their latest case; he'd made it sound more important in hopes of getting John to come along. Not wanting to wait until he was properly introduced, if he left a bit early he could go by John's work and maybe catch a glimpse of John's date if they met there, or follow John to where they'd meet. He'd be discreet, of course, he just wanted to know what she looked like, make his deductions, and then go meet his contact ...

John was off at 4.30 PM today. As Sherlock's cab got closer to the clinic where he worked John was already standing outside with a pretty looking woman. Her open blond hair reached down to her shoulder blades, Swedish-flag-blue skirt covering her knees, white blouse, oatmeal cardigan draped over her left arm, flat shoes, skin not tanned much, not much makeup ... John and her smiled at each other, no other skin contact ... unpretentious, honest, natural, normal ... then Sherlock's cab had passed by and he turned his head back quickly from looking at them. Hopefully John hadn't seen him.

ooo

Having left early, Sherlock called his contact, Peter Barnes, from the cab asking if they could meet earlier, which would work fine for both of them. He gave the address of the pub and soon paid the driver. It was a small place, off the main roads. Since it was only late afternoon there weren't many patrons yet.

They'd met several years ago when Sherlock had been addicted to cocaine and needed a place to stay trying to hide from a nasty creditor. Since Peter was homeless at the time he had let Sherlock stay with him at a secluded spot in a deserted underground tunnel, looked out for him when he was strung-out, introduced him to other homeless people. When Sherlock eventually surfaced in search of obtaining more drugs it hadn't taken Mycroft too long to find him, settle his debt and drag him off to rehab.

In retrospect Sherlock was grateful that Peter and his group of friends had helped him during that difficult period in his life, and in return he liked to help them whenever he could. In retrospect, he had to acknowledge, that he had to also be grateful for Mycroft not letting him kill himself with drugs. If he'd died then obviously he wouldn't have met John.

After waiting several minutes at the counter of the pub Sherlock saw Peter walk in. He was as tall as Sherlock, but even skinnier, dark hair as well, but longer and in a ponytail, tanned, clothes slightly worn, fingernails dirty and hands calloused from his latest job maintaining greenspaces in the city. They nodded in greeting at each other and then made their way to one of the tables at the side of the room. Sherlock wasn't hungry himself but offered to buy Peter supper, which was gratefully accepted.

"Here's the information you asked for," Peter said shoving a thin folder across the table at Sherlock, putting another forkful of his supper in his mouth, savoring the taste. "Something on your mind? You're so quiet. Not like you." Normally Sherlock would ask Peter about how things were going for himself and other people they both knew. Sherlock debated with himself whether he should mention anything about his situation with John.

"What would you do if you had found someone you get along well with?" he ventured.

"What d'you mean by 'get along well'?" Peter hadn't ever heard Sherlock express romantic interest in another human being before, only seen him alone. Back then Sherlock had been very abrasive, rude, full of himself, miserable, not someone anyone would want to be around for long.

"Well, ..." Sherlock shrugged his shoulders not quite sure how to proceed. "As I've mentioned before, I have this flatmate, Dr. John Watson. He works as a doctor. And helps me with cases. He's out on a date with a woman right now. And ..." Sherlock trailed off. He hadn't looked at Peter at all while he said this, just at his folded hands on top of the table, then closed his lips and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Oh. - Are you saying you want to be together with him?" Peter asked hearing between the words and beyond.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders again. Peter put his fork down, looked at Sherlock's tense face. He didn't have that much experience with relationships himself. Sherlock clearly cared about this one person, otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned this.

"Well, if you think there's any chance he may return your feelings you could be honest with him. Life's too short not to let someone know that you love them." In the past year alone a couple of their mutual acquaintances had died of various causes. Yes, life here on Earth is finite, Sherlock had to concede.

Sherlock looked at Peter. "Any further advice?"

"You said he's out with a woman right now. Do you know whether he's bisexual?"

"No, actually I do not." Sherlock sighed. "He was in the army. He's said several times that he's not gay, usually when people assume that we're in a relationship, which happens quite a bit." A small fond smile appeared on Sherlock's face remembering various such instances.

"So, if you don't know whether he's bisexual or has had some sexual experience with the same sex, you can't know whether he'll want to be intimate with you."

Sherlock swallowed hearing that. He knew that usually romantic relationships, if not at first, eventually included some form of sexual contact between the partners at times, but this conversation was becoming quickly uncomfortable now. He was glad Peter was open to talking about it with him, though.

Sherlock rubbed his forehead and made a face. "You're right. I just don't want to lose him."

"I'll be thinking of you. If you want to talk, you know how to get a hold of me."

Sherlock knew that 'thinking of you' meant that Peter would be praying for him regarding this matter. As he had when Sherlock had been addicted to drugs.

"Thanks, Peter." Sherlock sighed again, paid the bill and left for Baker Street.

ooo

Since John wasn't home yet, back at Baker Street Sherlock automatically made his way into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He sat at the kitchen table, lost in thought, pondering his options. After clearing his few dishes he decided to go lie on his bed instead of the couch, on the off chance that John might bring Jamie back to the flat, to give them more privacy. Hopefully John would notice and appreciate that, for once, he did not 'interfere' and scare off his date with deductions.

Exhausted as he felt Sherlock managed to fall asleep. He came to when he heard John calling for him.

"Sherlock, you home?" Sherlock realized he'd fallen asleep in his coat, so it was possible John assumed he had not returned because he didn't see his coat hanging by the door. He kept quiet.

"I guess he's not back yet," he heard John say. Obviously Sherlock's theory was right. "So this is our flat. What do you think?" Not alone then, most likely Jamie was here as well.

"Would you like some tea, or coffee?" he heard John ask politely.

"Tea would be fine." The sound of the tap being turned on and off, mugs being sat down. "Does he play the violin? What's with the skull on the mantle? And the smiley face? Are those bullet holes in the wall?" Jamie voiced some of the easy observations of their flat. So John had mentioned Sherlock to her, on their first date, he hoped this was a good sign.

"Want to come sit on the couch?" Sherlock heard John ask, and froze. John was going to carry the mugs with tea from the kitchen to the living room, and he and Jamie were going to sit on the couch where normally Sherlock sat with John. He blinked, processing that picture.

"Yes, Sherlock plays the violin, very well. He's been known to carry on conversations with that skull. And yes, those are bullet holes. He was very bored, which can happen, in between cases. I mentioned we help the police at times, often when they're stuck. He's a brilliant detective. In fact he's the most brilliant man I've ever known." Sherlock lay still, soaking up every word of John's praise, hoping. He was grateful that John left out the part that Sherlock was not always easy to live with, he did know that about himself.

The conversation in the living room was growing quieter. Sherlock had to strain his hearing trying to make out what was being said without having to resort to actually putting his ear against his closed bedroom door. He did not want to do that.

"Thanks for inviting me out, and for showing me your flat, and the tea. That's very nice of you, John."

"You're welcome. I had a good time. And I'm sure you could use a break from looking after Lucy. You're doing an admirable job raising her on your own. It can't always be easy."

"Yes, it can be a challenge to make her a priority and work full time. Luckily my extended family also helps to look after her, they're great support."

There was a small period of silence, presumably tea was being sipped while how to carry on the conversation was being pondered.

"May I kiss you?" Sherlock heard John ask, and his hands shot up to his head grabbing his hair.

It was then that Sherlock fully realized that he wanted to be the one kissing John and the one being kissed by John! He was glad his bedroom door was closed so he did not have to physically see John kissing another human being than him, Sherlock. He hoped very much that kissing was all John and Jamie were going to do. He was not at all sure whether he'd be able to bear witnessing any other 'activities' with any of his senses!

The quiet grew longer, Sherlock frowned, but there were no loud noises, just a few very little ones. Surely John would take it slow on a first date and not let himself or his date be carried away.

Finally he heard John chuckle "That was good...," even Jamie seemed to laugh softly "Yes, thanks! Hmm."

"Would you like to go out again some time?" John's voice.

"Yes, I'd like to." Jamie's reply. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, fists grabbing the duvet he was lying on, and felt like cursing. "Maybe next week? I'll have to make arrangements for a babysitter again," - Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. Until next week would give him some time. - "which reminds me, I should get going, have to be up early, I apologize."

"I understand, no need to apologize. Let's call you a cab and wait outside for it." Splendid! Sherlock began to feel a little more like himself again as his brain started to try to think of how to proceed from here.

ooo

He heard their apartment door close. After a few minutes it opened and closed again. Then he heard the shower start up. He was pretty sure John would not be happy to find out that Sherlock had heard their conversation and kissing. So he took this break to get out of his bedroom, open and close the flat door, hang up his coat.

"John, I'm back," he hollered, put the folder with the information he'd picked up on the coffee table and sat himself in his chair, knees bouncing.

"Be right out," John hollered back. Emerging a few minutes later he was greeted with an impatient "How was your date with Jamie?" right away. John narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Calm down Sherlock. It went very well! We both had a good time. She really is a nice woman... I invited her for tea after and showed her our flat. We might meet again next week." All truthful, leaving out the kissing and little noises parts, Sherlock noted starting to look serious.

"By the way, I do appreciate very much that you didn't show up at the restaurant or try to scare her away, thanks! And you even remember her name! You're brilliant!" John beamed at him. Sherlock swallowed.

"Did you have something for supper? Want to watch some telly? I'll just get changed, be right back." And with that John wandered up the stairs, to reappear shortly after in his PJs, getting comfortable on the couch. He put his feet up on the coffee table, klicked the TV on, as if nothing else had happened on that couch.

John patted the space beside him. "Want to sit here, Sherlock? How did it go with the case? Did you get what you needed?"

Sherlock swallowed, moved over to the couch, and gave John the folder to look at. John glanced over from the folder to ask Sherlock another question, but found his friend sitting with his eyes closed, lost in thought.

Feeling John's gaze on him Sherlock opened his eyes, bit his lip. "What's on TV? And, ah, yes, this information will be useful, I'll drop it off with Lestrade tomorrow."

"Okay." John yawned. "I think it's just a rerun of Supersize vs Superskinny. Want to watch that?"

"Please spare me." Sherlock didn't need a visual reminder of how little food he managed to eat at times in a week, especially during cases. He didn't care what was on, he had to think how to broach the subject of wanting to be in a relationship with his so-far-only-flatmate/friend.

He turned to lie down on the couch, lifting his feet above John's lap. "May I?" asking John's permission to put his feet down there. 'Yep, something's definitely up,' John thought and simply pushed Sherlock's feet onto his lap.

Sitting/lying like this was not uncommon for them. John didn't mind having Sherlock's feet in his lap, and this way Sherlock could stretch out and think, he presumed about things relating to The Work. Since it was a rerun he started flicking through the channels but soon turned the TV off in favor of picking up a medical journal from beside the couch.

"I have a short shift at A&E tomorrow." John had his name on a list of doctors helping out at certain hospitals in case someone called in sick or they needed extra help. He did find the quicker pace, variety and often greater urgency of what patients were dealing with interesting. "Should be back by 2 PM, if nothing major comes up."

"Hm," was all Sherlock remarked to indicate that he'd heard. He just lay there with his eyes closed, very still, feeling John's belly moving against his foot as he breathed in and out, steadily. It was calming, lying here like this, knowing that John was his friend: in deed, caring, reliable ...

ooo

After John had gone to bed Sherlock had stayed up yet. Maybe the browsing history on John's laptop would yield a clue about his orientation. Sherlock retrieved it, feeling slightly guilty. His perceived need to know whether John also found men sexually attractive overrode his knowledge that John would not approve of him hacking into his laptop. A weak password, as usual, allowed for quick access. After a few minutes of thorough search Sherlock concluded that John was most likely, at least at this time in his life, heterosexual. There was no evidence of John having looked at anything related to homosexual sex. Sherlock felt his hope squashed, some.

John himself had told him "it's all fine," meaning if Sherlock had a boyfriend. He had never heard John make a homophobic remark, ever. And yet ... Would the fact that Sherlock had a male body influence John's decision whether or not to have a relationship with him?

Trying to compare himself with unpretentious, honest, natural, normal Jamie Marsden was futile. Sherlock was Sherlock, unique, obviously! Of all those characteristics surely John would value honesty the most. If he wanted to impress John and have any hope of gaining his beyond-flatmate/friend-affection he would need to be honest with the man. Which did not come that natural for Sherlock. Decision made, honest he would be, as best he could.

He felt tired, emotionally and physically, made his way to his bedroom. Lying down there he thought of John upstairs, longing to study the marks on his face.

ooo

They were quietly sharing breakfast in the kitchen the next morning, John reading the newspaper, humming occasionally - in a good mood then - while Sherlock marveled at the sense of peace he felt.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "John, I need to speak with you about a matter of a private nature. Would some time this afternoon be suitable?"

"Hm, you were saying?" John put the newspaper down far enough to look at Sherlock over its top edge.

"I need to speak with you. About a private matter. Would this afternoon be okay?"

"Yes, that's fine. What's this about, Sherlock?"

"We'll talk then. You have to leave soon ..."

ooo

John had left the flat at 7.47 AM. 6 hours and 13 minutes, hopefully less, until he'd see John again, get the opportunity to speak with him! Sherlock could hardly wait in spite of wanting to prepare for it to the last detail. But how could he possibly predict John's reactions and responses?

Lying on the couch in his thinking pose he spent some time running various scenarios in his mind, trying to calculate the outcome if he asked John this way or that, or included certain information as variables, whether different levels of honesty would influence John's answer ... which got him really nowhere, only frustrated with his own limitations. The only two constants he was sure of: one - John was his friend, and two - John valued honesty.

Some of the scenarios he ran did come up with a negative answer, usually when one of the variables was John being 100% heterosexual. Sherlock tried not to let that worry him, John had surprised him in the past. Maybe John's sexual orientation was f‿l‿e‿x‿i‿b‿l‿e, his presumed heterosexuality not set in stone?

Sherlock tugged his hair, checked his watch: 4 hours and 7 minutes. He'd best get ready to go out, drop the information regarding their case, which was not even quite a two, so boring, off with Lestrade.

He spent some time in the bathroom cleaning up, shaving, fussing just a little over which way his curls fell today. After putting on an Alice blue shirt and a stylish night blue suit he took a good look at himself in the mirror and wondered whether John found him attractive. A Jamie Marsden he was not.

ooo

"Oi, Sherlock, are you going out somewhere?" Lestrade queried from behind his desk startled by Sherlock's dazzling appearance. It was still before noon, usually people looked like this going out to a restaurant or gala, not for merely dropping off case information at NSY.

"Hopefully I'll be going out with John. That is if he agrees. I'm going to ask him out." Sherlock smiled looking quite pleased with himself.

"I thought you two were together ... You're saying you're just going to ask him now?"

"Obviously not right now! When he comes back from his shift at A&E." Sherlock was still smiling, trying to feel confident. "I know people assume we're together. I'm surprised you as a police officer hadn't figured out that we weren't." Sherlock's smile was starting to fade.

'He's not sure whether John will agree,' Lestrade realized and the part of him that wanted to see Sherlock, former drug addict turned valued detective, happy and not hurt scrambled to find something reassuring to say. If John declined he could only hope that Sherlock would be able to deal with the sense of rejection he'd no doubt feel.

"You're right, I should not have assumed. Look, I wish you all the best. I hope he'll say yes!"

Sherlock nodded and turned to leave.

ooo

On the way home he stopped by Barts to pick up a few body parts Molly had texted him about: four eyes this time, two from a seeing person and two from a blind person. Molly nearly dropped the small tray she was carrying, containing clearly a pair of smoker's lungs Sherlock noted. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the sight wondering how much his own lungs had cleared up in the years since he hardly smoked anymore.

"Um, Hi Sherlock! Nice to see you! Are you going out somewhere?" Molly remarked with wide eyes.

"I'll be asking John out when he gets back from his shift at A&E," Sherlock said with a tender expression on his face, holding himself upright.

"You mean to go out for supper?" Molly asked for clarification.

"First I'll ask whether he wants to be in a relationship with me. Then maybe supper later, yes." Sherlock smiled.

"Um, I thought you were in a relationship ..." Molly looked sad.

"I know people assume. But assumptions are just that." Sherlock didn't elaborate further.

"Well then ... I, um, hope things will work out between the two of you! John is a nice man. And, um, good for you to want to ask him out... finally!" Molly smiled a little nervous. The slight blush on her cheeks and looking at the ground instead of him at the last sentence told Sherlock that Molly still hoped he'd ask her out if things didn't work out with John.

"Thanks," Sherlock said politely, replacing 'I'm not interested in you,' with "I can't see myself with someone else." He felt slightly surprised to hear himself say this truth out loud.

Molly had put the tray with the smoker's lungs down on the counter and went to retrieve two small plastic containers out of the fridge, one labeled 'seeing', the other 'blind', put them into a small brown paper bag before handing that over to Sherlock.

"Here. I wish you all the best! If you need anything else, just let me know." Molly sounded defeated, having gotten the hint.

"Thanks for the eyes," it was practical to have her get him body parts for experiments at times, "I appreciate it." And with that he strode off, brown paper bag with contents in hand.

ooo

One more patient to see, then John could head home. He looked forward to spending the afternoon with Sherlock, and maybe ringing Jamie to see how she was doing. John took the patient file labeled 'Robert Ferrer', quickly absorbed the sparse information - 41, single, nothing unusual beyond the flu and a sick note for work about two weeks ago, presenting now with a 'hurt wrist' which he hadn't let anyone else look at - and stepped behind the partition.

"Hello, Mr. Ferrer. I'm Dr. Watson. How can I help you?" John said warmly looking over the slumped man sitting in a green plastic chair: slightly unkempt brown hair, jeans and a faded blue t-shirt, red Converse runners with a little blood spatter on them, some dried blood on both hands, green towel wrapped around the right wrist. His face was drawn, John's presence only acknowledged with a nod.

"May I have a look?" Silence. John stepped closer and gently took the man's arm, removing the towel. The still bleeding gash along the base of the wrist definitely looked self-inflicted.

"Can you tell me what happened?" John asked wrapping the towel back around for now, getting Mr. Ferrer to hold it in place with his other hand while he went to pull supplies out of a drawer.

"We were together for about half a year... And then this morning I was let go from my job. They just marched me to the door, didn't even give a reason, it was so humiliating." Mr. Ferrer hung his head.

John thought something like 'So she left you, on top of it you were laid off, and you thought to try to end your life would solve your problems?' when Mr. Ferrer said "I really loved him," and John was very grateful he'd kept his mouth shut! The man in front of him looked so not-homosexual, John gave himself a mental kick that he must stop assuming about people's sexual orientation.

"So this was not an accident then," John stated the obvious. "Were you trying to kill yourself?" He remembered how desperate he himself had felt often because of his discharge from the military, before he met Sherlock.

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Who cares?" 'I don't matter' being implied. John blinked at that. He wanted to say 'I care. As a doctor. As a fellow human being. That you hurt so much that you thought of ending your life.' But he didn't.

After having checked that the nerves and tendons in the hand still worked he carefully disinfected the wound, administered a painkiller and then proceeded to close it with several stitches. Finally he wrapped a bandage around the wrist.

"People do care about you," John emphasized, which was only received by more silence, shoulder shrugging and possibly further slumping. John felt like shaking this patient.

"Are you having any thoughts of suicide or hurting yourself now?" John had to ask.

Headshake 'no'.

"Can you please talk?" John tried to keep his voice level.

"No. - I don't want to have to stay at hospital..."

"I hear you. I'll refer you to our assessment and brief treatment team. They'll speak with and listen to you, explain possible treatment plans, give you a card with contact information... also get you in touch with people to help you find a new job. You're not alone in this, Mr. Ferrer," John pointed out.

"Is there someone who can come pick you up after? Do you have someone who can stay with you for the next few days, or who you could stay with?" John really didn't like the thought of this patient being left by himself with his own thoughts and feelings during the upcoming weekend.

"I moved here not even a year ago from Birmingham to start that job, haven't made too many friends... but I guess I could ask Stephen and his wife..."

John was relieved to hear the man had at least some social contacts. "That's good. I'll have someone from Mental Health Services speak with you. Please wait here. Your hand should be fine. I trust you'll get the support you need."

"Thanks, Doctor!"

John nodded acknowledgement and stepped outside, made his way to the phone, dialed Mental Health. "Hi, it's Dr. Watson. I'm referring a patient: slashed-wrist..."

ooo

Approximately 53 minutes until John's return. After he had hung up his suit jacket, Sherlock opened the fridge door to store the two little plastic containers. At least they were labeled, so John would probably not accidentally open them.

John had strongly suggested in the past that non-food items and items needed for future and/or ongoing experiments should be kept on one labeled shelf, two max, if Sherlock could manage that. The logical place was the bottom shelf, this way if something spilled it couldn't drip down on food for human consumption which would be situated above. John's suggestion was both logical and practical, so Sherlock wrote 'non-food-items only' on a label, attached it to the bottom shelf and then retrieved all such qualifying items from their various locations in the fridge. Surely John would notice and welcome this change.

Next he fetched a plain looking glass vase from one of the kitchen cupboards, filled it with water, unwrapped the flowers he'd bought, cut the stems under running water, arranged them in the vase, which he then placed on the mantle.

Of course, as a detective, he was familiar with 'the language of flowers'. It might come in handy at a crime scene some day, possibly giving clues as to motives or relationships. So he had settled on three roses to illustrate his feelings for John: one yellow - for friendship, one orange - he found John fascinating, one deep red - for romantic love. He hoped John would notice them and understand their meaning.

Maybe Mrs. Hudson had some scones left over that would lend themselves for an afternoon snack with tea? Sherlock made his way downstairs to inquire. ...

ooo

On his way home to Baker Street John's thoughts returned to Mr. Ferrer. There was no way for him to have known that this man was homosexual, or possibly bisexual, come to think of it. Hearing about a breakup people didn't normally ask 'and the sex of your ex-partner is/was?' or 'you were together with a man, or a woman?' Human nature apparently was to assume. And did it make any difference? Heartache was heartache, and broken relationships were just that, broken, regardless of the individuals' identifications or orientations.

Meeting this patient had reminded him clearly how depressed he himself had been back then, that he had definitely thought of ending his life, often. And why hadn't he? What had held him back from pulling the trigger? From letting himself find relief from the torment he'd felt. Had he been too depressed to follow through? Afraid to meet his Maker? Hoping against hope that something would change, even though at the time he often had felt so hopeless?

He had survived, somehow, somehow resisted the temptations to end that misery. And then Sherlock had entered his life, given him purpose, making him feel needed and valued. Friendship had grown between them, and John was grateful for it. He'd have to let Sherlock know soon that he valued him as a close friend. Life was too short ...

ooo


	2. Asking

Please note: I WILL ONLY POST ch. 1 to 5 ON FFnet because after that the rating would be MA on FFnet, which one is not allowed to post on FFnet! - This story is rated E on archiveofourown, where you can look at the tags to see whether you may want to read it. In addition to ch. 1 to 5, chapters 6 and up are already posted at: archiveofourown dot org then paste /works/3968104/chapters/8901034 after org (I'm Cyclamen on Ao3) A few chapters have trigger warnings!

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Asking**

Walking up the last few steps to their apartment John remembered that Sherlock had wanted to talk with him about "a private matter". Good, he'd probably get the opportunity to express his own sentiment then.

"Hi, Sherlock." John saw Sherlock sitting in his chair.

"Hello, John. How was your shift?"

John turned around from hanging up his coat. He didn't answer right away. Sherlock appeared relaxed just having finished a case. John's eyes drifted from Sherlock to the mantle noting the vase with three differently colored roses, and back to Sherlock noticing the Alice blue shirt, a nice ice blue that looked good on him.

"Um, it was interesting, brought back some memories... Is this a new shirt? And who brought us flowers?"

"Ah, I got the shirt a while ago, first time wearing it though. And I got the flowers." Sherlock blinked at him, smiling.

The last sentence tugged on John's curiosity and he frowned making his way into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"Do you want a cup as well, and a scone?" John asked finding the scones sitting on the kitchen table. Since they hadn't been there this morning and it was highly unlikely Sherlock went shopping or had actually baked them, they were most likely Mrs. Hudson's handiwork. He opened the fridge to get some milk for himself.

"Wow, what happened to the fridge?" It looked mostly neat and organized. The bottom shelf with its new "non-food items only" label was quite 'populated'.

"Tea, yes please; scone, no, I had half a one downstairs. I followed up on your suggestion regarding non-food items. An excellent idea really, I should have done it sooner." Sherlock felt quite sure John was pleased to hear that.

"I'm really impressed with the fridge! It'll be much easier to keep track of what needs to be binned instead of just going by smell, and more hygienic, hopefully." John put the milk back in the fridge.

When he emerged from the kitchen he handed Sherlock his cup of tea which was accepted with "Thanks!" and then settled himself in his own chair. His body appreciated the sit-down and his mind relaxed in the familiar surroundings. Digging his teeth into Mrs. Hudson's scrumptious scone he asked "Why did you get flowers?"

"An expression of my sentiments for you, John."

Just taking a sip of his tea, John wondered whether he'd heard right. He knew it was unusual for Sherlock to talk about "sentiment". He'd used the plural.

"Is this related to the private matter you wanted to speak with me about?"

"Yes, about that ..." Sherlock folded his hands.

John had no idea what this was about, but it couldn't be too bad after all. "So...? I'm right here. I'm listening."

Sherlock's eyes looked so warm when he calmly said "John, I want us to be in a relationship: to be more than flatmates and friends. Will you go out with me?"

Whatever John had thought this might be about, he had not expected that. He blinked, and gulped. Surprised by Sherlock's statement and question John was lost for words.

Sherlock had stopped smiling by now. "John?!"

John put his hands on his head, sighed. "You want us to be in a relationship? You mean a romantic one?"

"Yes."

"Sherlock, I _greatly_ value you as my very close _friend_ , my _best_ friend, and I am _very_ grateful for our friendship!" John emphasized each word, trying to stay calm, hoping Sherlock would accept that truth and not ask for more.

"Yes. I'm also glad we're friends. Of course I value our friendship! So, will you be my boyfriend, partner, significant other - whatever you want to call it?"

John sighed again. "Right. You know I just was on a date with Jamie; yesterday in fact. And I told you I might see her again, last night. Right? You should know that I am not in the habit of dating two people at the same time!"

"You can stop seeing her and go out with me?" Sherlock provided hopefully.

John covered his closed eyes with his hand, then rubbed his forehead. "Why are you asking me this now? You said you considered yourself married to your work." They both looked serious now.

"I had fallen asleep in my bedroom when you brought Jamie here last night. I realized that I want _us_ to be together. Will you, please?" Sherlock tried not to sound pleading.

John looked at the flowers on the mantle, stayed quiet.

"I got three roses for you, John: yellow, obviously, because we're friends, orange because you're so fascinating," Sherlock drew out the "o" on so, "and red, well... I want us to be together..." He didn't include veryveryverymuch or I love you as he deemed those words might sound desperate.

"I can follow you with the yellow and orange: Yes, we are friends! And I find you fascinating as well, definitely." Sherlock was glad to hear that. "But red? To be honest with you: I've never been in a romantic relationship with a man." John confirmed Sherlock's conclusion from the night before. "I can't answer your question. Not right now, Sherlock. I'm sorry."

Sherlock felt stung. He swallowed, blinked, reminded himself that John had not said 'No, never.' Trying for a safer topic he asked "Seeing how this case is finished, did you want to go out for dinner later?" Which was not out of the norm for them.

Sherlock noted that John looked slightly sad. John didn't look at him when he muttered "Sure."

"Where did you want to go? - Or would you rather order in?"

"I don't know..." John still hadn't looked up. "I guess whatever you feel like." He didn't want to add that for the time being he had lost his appetite. Finally he looked up to search Sherlock's face, to see how his friend was doing.

Sherlock's face and body looked tense, obviously he'd hoped for a positive answer. John felt the need to reassure and comfort him.

"I'll need some time, to consider, please. Okay? We'll talk about it again some other time?" John stood up from his chair and came to stand beside Sherlock's. "Can I give you a hug?"

Sherlock felt awkward, but he got up, stepped close to John, who pulled him into a tight embrace. Slowly Sherlock brought his arms up to embrace John as well. It felt good and right, he didn't want John to let go of him. Sherlock's tense muscles relaxed as he tried to commit to memory how John felt in his arms, how he smelled, the feeling of John's hair against his cheek, feeling John's breath, heartbeat ...

"Know that I love you as my friend, Sherlock," John said firmly with tenderness.

Sherlock didn't say anything, just held on until John started to step back. When they stood apart again he nodded his head briefly. "Thank you, John. I'll be in my room for a bit."

With that Sherlock made his way to his room to give both of them some privacy. John looked after him until Sherlock's bedroom door closed. Sitting down in his chair questions started to roam his mind...

ooo

 _So, that was..._ John huffed and shook his head. He brought his hand to his head. _Oh my God. What do I do? I don't need this! Shit! I don't want to hurt him._

John felt worried, and sad. Sherlock and him were best friends, yes of course. Full stop. Just before this afternoon's revelation John's world had been rosy with the prospect of probably going out with Jamie again, a very nice woman. Now all of a sudden it felt complicated and slightly stifling.

Reasons why he felt he couldn't and didn't want to be in a romantic relationship with Sherlock were quick to come by: So far in his life, he'd only been romantically and sexually interested in women. Full stop. Having compared penis sizes and who could piss farther a few times with other boys or blokes didn't mean he was interested in seeing or getting aroused by male bodies and genitalia. His sexual orientation was not his fault. Full stop.

Of course he was a doctor, so he had seen plenty and knew what was involved with male/male sex. And he was definitely _not_ homophobic, given that his own sister, Harry, only wanted to be with women.

 _Why me?_ John realized that Sherlock must have known that he was taking a risk asking him out, that John might turn him down. Surely Sherlock, a master at deduction, must know that he'd never even kissed a man. Well, given his own experience with Mr. Ferrer today, maybe sexual orientation was one thing Sherlock was not able to accurately deduce 100%. Hence the question. _But still..._

He'd come to a comfortable place in his life: The depression resulting from having been invalided was gone, thanks to Sherlock, he conceded. He had a meaningful job as a physician. He shared a flat with his best friend, Sherlock. He had a few other friends. He did enjoy sharing in The Work and knew that Sherlock valued him as a partner in that. He didn't want to change any of that!

Deep down he was hoping to find a life partner one day. Someone - so far he'd only seen himself with a woman - to settle down with, to be intimate with, to cherish and be cherished, grow old with ... In which case he'd eventually move out from Baker Street. Of course he'd still be Sherlock's best friend and help him with The Work, they were partners after all...

Certainly Sherlock's "I consider myself married to my work" back then did not allow for John to have anticipated Sherlock wanting a life partner now, and asking _him!_

With a sigh John also realized that he had never considered having a male life partner. Because he was not attracted to men. Admittedly Sherlock was an in so many ways very gifted human being, of the male gender. _But... honestly, can I give a relationship with him a realistically sincere chance? - Shit!_

Right now he could not picture himself sharing more-than-platonic touches with Sherlock. _Why me? Why now? I don't want to hurt him!_

ooo

Sherlock retreated to his room, sat down on his bed. John had not accepted as he'd hoped. Sherlock hung his head. He'd taken a risk, stuck his head out like a snail out of its shell. There was no reason to give up hope they could have a more-than-best-friends-relationship yet. John had surprised him in the past...

However, Sherlock's mind began parading some reasons why John might turn him down: _you're not lovable, you're ugly, you're too thin, you're an ex-drug addict, you're a freak, you disgust him, you have a male body, John only likes female bodies, he's not bisexual..._ Sherlock pulled on his hair wanting the negative thoughts to stop.

Part of him wished that he'd kept his mouth shut. What if John was disgusted by Sherlock's love declaration, which it practically was, even without the words? What if he moved out sooner than he would eventually anyway once he found the right woman? Sherlock had no illusions about that.

No, he had done the right thing. Peter was right: life is too short. The Work could be dangerous. Realistically he knew that either of them or both could get badly hurt or even killed during investigations, chasing criminals, being captured, being attacked... This was an inherent risk of The Work. And John shared that part of their life willingly. Sherlock could not bare the thought of either of them dying and never having told him. _Unthinkable, unacceptable. John must know._

With that his resolve renewed to see this through. He'd have to be strong and patient, give John the time he'd requested, to consider. He'd try his best to be 'normal' around John, whatever measure of 'normal' he could muster in his 'state'. Try to act like before.

He allowed himself to recall John's "Know that I love you as my friend, Sherlock," while they had embraced, and a warm smile spread across his face, also warming his heart. _Ah, John..._

He was starting to get hungry, typical post-case. And he missed John. Maybe John was getting hungry as well? Sherlock got off his bed, poked his head through the door. John was still sitting in his chair.

"Would you like to go to Angelo's? I won't let them light the candle. Wouldn't want anyone assume we're in a relationship." Sherlock tried to make light.

"Sherlock!" John tried to sound warningly. He'd turned when he'd heard Sherlock's bedroom door open and was grateful to see his friend smile at him. "Okay. But this is not a date, you know that." John gave him a tight smile.

"I know. But I am hungry. And we are friends, regardless, right?"

"Right! Well then, I'll get changed. That shirt does look good on you..."

Sherlock still smiled at him. _It's good to see him smile. I don't want to hurt him._

ooo


	3. Tiramisu at Angelo

Please note: I WILL ONLY POST ch. 1 to 5 ON FFnet because after that the rating would be MA on FFnet, which one is not allowed to post on FFnet! - This story is rated E on archiveofourown, where you can look at the tags to see whether you may want to read it. In addition to ch. 1 to 5, chapters 6 and up are already posted at: archiveofourown dot org then paste /works/3968104/chapters/8901034 after org (I'm Cyclamen on Ao3) A few chapters have trigger warnings!

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Tiramisu at Angelo's**

The taxi ride to Angelo's was slightly 'torturous' for Sherlock. John sat to his right with his hands on top of his knees, looking straight ahead, not quite relaxed judging by his posture. Sherlock would have liked to scoot over so their thighs could touch but thought John might not appreciate such close physical contact (yet?).

Instead he openly kept staring at John's hands, which, at the moment he found absolutely fascinating: he noted the shape of his fingernails, state of the cuticles, moisture content of his skin, location of marks and lines, length and width of his fingers... He very much would have liked to study the underside of his hands and wrists as well.

John cleared his throat, having caught on to Sherlock's staring. "Would you mind? You've seen my hands before."

"Not like this," Sherlock replied almost reverently. He felt like he had 'binocular vision', which, of course, he'd love to focus on other parts of John's body as well. He'd have to get samples of all of John's fingerprints and study them under his microscope, actual skin and hair samples... maybe John would let him study his feet...

ooo

At Angelo's they were seated at their usual table. Angelo beamed happy at them, but when he came with a candle, true to his word, Sherlock insisted it not be lighted.

"We're not on a date. And we haven't been together," Sherlock stated plainly, looking straight at John. Angelo looked slightly taken aback, obviously he'd also assumed that they were in a relationship, but didn't say a word about it. He squeezed Sherlock's shoulder briefly, then retreated after he left their menus.

John would not be blamed for Sherlock's very poor timing, asking John to be in a relationship with him, the very day after he was on a nice date with Jamie, nor for the fact that he was heterosexual. He cleared his throat.

"So, anything in particular you'd like to talk about, Sherlock?" he offered.

"Not this moment." Sherlock was currently engrossed in studying John's face, the shape, width and length of his nose, set of his jaw, lines, marks, scars, shape, setting and color of his eyes, his lips... John's tongue still evaded his scrutiny and he should turn his head a little so Sherlock could see his ear better...

Sherlock began to smile, realizing that he was staring. "Thanks for the hug earlier, and for coming along for supper."

"Oh, you're welcome. You're my best friend. I don't want to hurt your feelings." There, he said it.

The smile faded from Sherlock's face, replaced with a look of uncertainty, almost fear.

"Sorry for staring. You're the most fascinating human being I know, there's so much of you I haven't discovered yet..." He felt like saying 'I love you, John.' John knew that he loved him, didn't he?

John pursed his lips. "Thanks, I guess. But Sherlock, while I am flattered by your interest, as I said, I've never been in a romantic relationship with a man. What about you?"

Sherlock sighed, thinking what kind of 'relationships' he'd had. Relationships weren't really his thing, or so he'd thought, until yesterday when he'd realized he wanted to be with John.

"Well...," he trailed off, putting on his best thinking face complete with theatrical look up at the ceiling. "I kind of had a crush on a male classmate at Uni, we had sex a few times, it didn't last long. Then there was Victor, you've met him; I think he didn't respect me, always wanted things his way. There were a few 'encounters' out of necessity when I needed drugs... Nothing since then. So, not many romantic relationships at all. You're it!"

He would have preferred to leave out the fact he'd traded sex for drugs, but he'd resolved to be honest with John. Inwardly he cringed at what his reaction might be. At the mention of it John had averted his gaze to the table, closed his eyes briefly and nodded imperceptibly, indicating that, knowing about Sherlock's past drug use, he had suspected this might be a possibility.

No harsh words, no condemnation, just quiet acknowledgement of his past. Sherlock swallowed feeling grateful, yet also sad because John had not agreed to give them a chance yet.

"Of course Mycroft insisted I get tested for STDs, which makes sense... I'm clean." At the time the need to procure the means to satisfy the cravings of his addiction had completely overridden any sense he should exercise caution. He'd been lucky not to suffer ill consequences, thank goodness indeed, Sherlock mused.

John picked up on his pensive mood and gestured toward the open menu to change the subject. "You know what you want to order?"

"I'll have the gnocchi. And you?"

"I'll have the lasagne today, maybe some tiramisu for dessert."

Ah, dessert, which Sherlock normally would not have. But maybe he could sneak a few spoonfuls of John's. He'd have to drop his own spoon then somehow, which should be easy, ask to use his instead, hopefully there'd still be bits of John's saliva on his spoon which Sherlock could ingest then along with some tiramisu. No, he'd have to put this spoon in his mouth first, lick it, savor it, without the distraction of tiramisu! He didn't really care whether John might notice that there was no dessert on the spoon.

After a few seconds Sherlock looked around and signaled for a waiter. One promptly came to take their orders. "And we'll share a tiramisu for dessert," Sherlock added, plan in place! John looked mildly surprised.

ooo

The cab ride home to Baker Street was a little tense. John, not as unobservant as Sherlock hoped he'd be right then, of course had figured out that Sherlock had dropped his own spoon on purpose so he could 'lick' John's several times lingeringly before finally using it to put some actual tiramisu into his mouth. John had squinted his eyes at him, and his lips had formed a flat line, not impressed.

"So, what's this then?" John demanded. "Now you're 'licking' my spoon without asking my permission first?!"

"I didn't know one had to ask permission to 'lick' someone's spoon," Sherlock said sheepishly.

"Well, that's just it. I'm not just someone, Sherlock. I'm the person you asked to be in a relationship with you. Which we are not, at this time. Not a romantic one, I mean," John had to clarify.

Sherlock glanced at John sideways trying to gauge the degree of his anger. John's lips were pursed.

"I wanted to taste your saliva," Sherlock admitted, he'd resolved to be honest. "What am I supposed to do? I want to kiss you. But you say you can't give me an answer yet."

John didn't reply to that, took a deep breath and exhaled, kept looking out the window on his side of the cab while Sherlock mostly did the same.

"I'm sorry if my licking your spoon offended your sensibilities, John," Sherlock supplied eventually, just as they were pulling up to Baker Street, which John acknowledged with a nod.

They walked up the stairs to their apartment in silence and hung up their coats. Sitting down in his chair Sherlock hoped John would make some tea and offer him a cup just to feel some normalcy in this obviously not-as-normal-as-before-he'd-asked-John-to-be-his-boyfriend-situation.

John went to sit in his own chair, though, looking a bit earnest. "Sherlock,... ," he started. "I don't know what to say to you. Give me time, please. You're my best friend. I want us to remain friends regardless of what I may decide. Please..."

John was clearly struggling for words and Sherlock realized that 'this' maybe was difficult, challenging and uncomfortable for John as it was for himself, even if for different reasons. "Okay," he nodded. "May I hug you? - Please?"

John didn't even look happier or smile when he got up from his chair. This time he did not approach Sherlock, but opened his arms in invitation nonetheless. Sherlock got up, took the few steps into John's arms, melted against him as much as possible, and just held on. Feeling John in his arms, feeling his heartbeat, smelling his hair... He wished he could hold John like this for longer, sit down with him on the couch, just hold him or explore, or lie down in his bedroom with him...

After a few long seconds Sherlock felt John relax in his arms, making a mental note that this type of embrace was welcome, permitted, beneficial for both of them. They should do this more often.

Words were not needed at this time. John assured Sherlock silently with his presence that he would always be Sherlock's friend. Sherlock received his assurance and assured John in return.

This was relaxing, they both sighed at the same time. John stepped back a little to create some space between their bodies, not removing his arms yet.

"Okay then. I'm really tired. We'll get this sorted. One way or the other. I need to go to bed."

"I'll be up for a bit yet." Sherlock let go of John and went to sit on the couch.

John went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up. Before heading up the stairs to his bedroom he paused and looked at Sherlock. "I'm glad we're friends. See you in the morning."

"Thank you, John. Good night." He wanted to tell John again that he loved him but couldn't bring himself to voice these words. John had to know. He had to.

ooo


	4. Tagging Along to Tesco

Please note: I WILL ONLY POST ch. 1 to 5 ON FFnet because after that the rating would be MA on FFnet, which one is not allowed to post on FFnet! - This story is rated E on archiveofourown, where you can look at the tags to see whether you may want to read it. In addition to ch. 1 to 5, chapters 6 and up are already posted at: archiveofourown dot org then paste /works/3968104/chapters/8901034 after org (I'm Cyclamen on Ao3) A few chapters have trigger warnings!  
I can't include even the fictitious link I made up that Sherlock sent John, because FFnet deletes it right away (that's FFnet for you, but you can see it on Ao3, right after " _Yours, Sherlock_ ") Thank you to KarlyAnne (on Ao3) for helping answer some questions I had regarding this chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Tagging along to Tesco's**

Once inside his bedroom, John pushed the door shut, leaned his back against it, hung and shook his head. _What a day..._ When he'd gotten up this morning he had had no idea Sherlock would ask him out. He had felt shocked at first. Then sad for Sherlock because he knew he was heterosexual. John had not been interested in Sherlock, his best friend, like that. Of course he knew that many people assumed they were together. What did they really know?

He shoved from the door, turned his bedside lamp on, the bedroom ceiling light out, started to take his clothes off automatically, just letting them lie where they fell. Normally he'd fold them neatly, but today...

He was glad to lie down in his PJs under the duvet on his side, both knees drawn up, one hand under his pillow. Mr. Ferrer came to mind again, who had hurt himself thinking of trying to end his life. He couldn't help but wonder how Sherlock would react if John said no. Sherlock had mentioned his past drug addiction during dinner... John tried to banish mental pictures of Sherlock trading sex for drugs. He cringed, wishing he'd met Sherlock sooner. _Shouldhavecouldhavewouldhave..._ Resigned John resolved to give up thinking about it for now. He needed to sleep. Calm down. Maybe tomorrow he'd call Jamie to see if she'd like to meet again earlier, do something together on the weekend. And talk with Sherlock.

ooo

After John had gone upstairs Sherlock curled up on the couch wrapping his arms around himself, remembering the feeling of John's embrace. He felt so _needy_. Normally he'd play his violin to express emotions or inner processes he couldn't talk about. But all he could think about now was John. His mind fed him a stream of scenes of John in various situations, from the past, today, tonight. Sherlock belatedly noticed that one of his hands had made it to his crotch. As he felt himself beginning to get hard through the fabric of his trousers he made a conscious decision not to imagine possible future situations of John and him together. At least for now, he told himself.

Being honest with John had not been as difficult as he thought it might be, and there had been no negative consequences for him from it, so far! They had embraced twice in one day. Sherlock smiled thinking about it. Would John give him another hug tomorrow? Would he accept one from Sherlock? What about kissing? Kiss where? Kiss how? What about touching parts of John's body? Which parts? Touch how? Sherlock hummed. There was so much he wanted to do with John, to show him that he loved him, really appreciated him... He'd have to find out what John was willing to do, would let Sherlock do. And since John obviously had not looked at gay porn, if Sherlock sent him a decent link maybe that would get him interested in trying the real thing, with Sherlock, of course, who was very willing. _Yes_ , Sherlock sat up, grabbed his computer to find a suitable website, after which he proceeded to send a short e-mail to John:

 _Dear John,  
I realize you haven't been in a romantic relationship with a man. I hope you're not scared to give us a chance because I have a male body. In case you wonder what it might look like physically I've included a tasteful link for you to check out, if you want.  
Yours, Sherlock_

ooo

John yawned and rubbed his eyes walking down the stairs from his bedroom. He felt well rested to face this day. After turning on the kettle in the kitchen he used the bathroom, then on his way back to the kitchen stopped behind the couch to look down at Sherlock who appeared to be sleeping still, face towards the back. He looked relaxed, a little drool in the left corner of his mouth, blue dressing gown in disarray, hair a mess. John felt love and fondness for his friend, smiled softly and shook his head in wonder, noticing how peaceful the atmosphere in the apartment was this morning.

"John?" Sherlock said quietly, not opening his eyes yet, but sensing John's presence and gaze.

"Ya?"

"What are you doing?" Sherlock had opened his eyes.

"Watching you sleep." John's hand was halfway to Sherlock's face, he hadn't even noticed that he was reaching out to touch this rare precious beautiful man that was his friend.

"May I?"

John didn't catch on right away as Sherlock took his hand very gently, light as a feather pressed a kiss in the palm of his hand and held it against his cheek.

John hadn't meant for this to happen. It was a very tender gesture and moment, he dimly registered, not pulling his hand away immediately.

Sherlock was looking up at him with big eyes, gentle like a doe's, smiling shyly. In fact John had never seen Sherlock look this happy and content. The cause was John's hand on his cheek. It didn't feel unpleasant or uncomfortable to have his hand there, but _Oh my God, he's in love with me. Shit! I didn't know he can be this gentle._

John cleared his throat. "I'll go make breakfast then. You hungry?"

Sherlock blinked, let go of John's hand right away as he pulled away turning towards the kitchen. He didn't feel particularly hungry, but it was post-case, so he should eat.

"What would you like?" John asked from the kitchen.

"Toast, tea." Sherlock knew it was important to John that he try to eat right, and enough. He got off the couch to go to the bathroom, put some water on his face, brush his teeth. Seeing his reflection in the mirror he decided he should comb his hair. Normally he wouldn't bother...

They quietly shared simple toast with jam and honey and some tea, neither mentioning Sherlock's lips on John's palm. Sherlock, for his part, was gazing at John's chest where just a few hairs were sticking out from his PJs. He'd love to sit on John's lap, lick his neck and ear...

"Can I sit on your lap?" Sherlock asked innocently, his mouth following where his thoughts were.

"No! You and I will need to have a talk sometime soon about these things. Boundaries and such, you know." John meant it. "We both agree we're best friends. I would find anyone sitting on my lap a bit sexual. I'd prefer that we don't touch sexually. - While I consider your request. Can you accept that?"

Sherlock swallowed, then nodded. He did look disappointed and his lip had a definite pouting slant to it.

"Heard from Greg?" John hoped for a positive answer to give Sherlock's brain something else to do than look at John's chest, of course he'd noticed.

"No."

"Maybe something'll come up yet. We're almost out of milk and a few other things. I was going to go to Tesco's shortly to get the shopping out of the way for the weekend, before it gets busy."

"Would it be alright if I come along?"

John looked mildly surprised. "Really? Since when are you interested in grocery shopping?"

"Since last night." Sherlock actually had given this some thought also, wondering what things he and John could do together. Shopping was quite low on his list, naturally. Getting to know John better and better and physical closeness were his top two priorities. But if tagging along for tedious grocery shopping got him to spend more precious time with John, so be it, for now, Sherlock had told himself.

John's expression became more serious, mustering Sherlock. "Hm. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, John. I do want to spend time with you, today, and in the future. I'm willing to give grocery shopping a try."

John still looked skeptical. "Alright. Let me put the dishes in the sink and get changed."

Sherlock nodded, got up to have a quick shower and get changed himself. "Do you want me to help with the dishes?" he asked turning around, already half out of the kitchen.

"I got it. You just get ready." John had often wished that Sherlock would make more of an effort with things like shopping and tidying. But then he'd figured that The Work was more important than looking after aspects of everyday life.

ooo

It was only a short walk to Tesco's. John had made a quick shopping list and taken along four reusable bags. It was shortly after 9 AM, not busy yet. Many people, tired from their work week, preferred to sleep in.

"Basket or cart?" Sherlock asked considering the number of bags John had brought.

"Cart. Since I have you along you can help carry." John gave him a friendly nudge and smile.

Sherlock got a cart. Actually pushing the cart, following John through the aisles, was not exciting. But John's nice well formed bum was visible under his short jacket. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...

Sherlock was just admiring John's gait, the movement of his hips, when John suddenly slowed down as they entered the produce aisle. Sherlock nearly bumped into him, looked up trying to find the cause for the change in pace.

There, 5 metres from them, Jamie Marsden was trying to decide which bunch of organic bananas to take. The shopping cart by her side contained not only groceries, but also a fair haired toddler in the child seat, Lucy, Sherlock remembered.

John busied himself trying to pick whatever fruit was closest, grapes, which were not on the shopping list, Sherlock knew. _Didn't expect to meet her here. Likely would prefer to be alone with her._ She still looked as unpretentious, honest, natural and normal as when Sherlock had first seen her. Instead of a blue skirt she wore moss green pants, and her cardigan was heathered grey instead of oatmeal colored.

When she spotted John she looked pleased to see him and pushed her cart over. _Doesn't know I'm here with him. Doesn't know what I look like._

"Hi, John! How are you?"

"Oh, Hi, Jamie. Nice to see you. I hadn't expected to meet you here." John looked pleased as well and waved at Lucy, who still looked tired but waved back.

"You haven't met, let me introduce you to my friend Sherlock." John pointed at Sherlock. "Jamie, this is Sherlock Holmes. - Sherlock, this is Jamie Marsden and her daughter Lucy."

Sherlock didn't feel particularly inclined to be 'socially nice and appropriate' to his rival for John's affections, but felt it would be in his best interest to just shake her hand. He put on a weak fake smile, hoped John wouldn't notice.

"Hello Ms. Marsden," Sherlock shook Jamie's hand and also waved at Lucy, "hello Lucy. John told me of your acquaintance, nice to meet you in person. I'll carry on with the shopping then and let you two converse." With that he took the shopping list from John's hand, who looked slightly alarmed hearing Sherlock's clipped tone, and pushed their cart along.

Since Sherlock actually had done some very minor shopping at this Tesco he was familiar with its layout and was able to finish the shopping quickly. Thus, when he got a _"Ready to go, where are you? JW"_ text from John 8 minutes and 25 seconds later he was already waiting by the checkout, in case John wanted to add something, before he'd pay.

 _"Waiting for you by the checkout. SH"_ he texted back. And there was John already, striding towards him, gooey smile on his face.

"She invited me to come along to the Zoo this afternoon!"

Sherlock sighed. He could feel John's excitement about this development.

"Okay. Did you want to add anything else?"

John surveyed the cart, satisfied it contained what they'd come for plus a few extras, shook his head. Sherlock paid. They loaded the bags evenly, proceeded back to their apartment, sharing the weight, carrying two bags each.

"So, what do you think of Jamie?" John sounded bubbly.

Sherlock had enjoyed this shopping trip with John. Running into Jamie was not a disaster. He'd have to see it as an opportunity to show John that he could handle this situation he found himself in maturely.

"She appears to be nice. I can understand that you find her attractive," was all he could come up with. It was difficult, though, to say these words, trying to sound neutral. Which he was really not.

Back in their apartment Sherlock assisted with putting the groceries away.

"Thanks for coming along, Sherlock, and giving a hand! Want some tea?"

"Sure. Being with you made it not boring."

John filled the kettle with water, his back to Sherlock, so he did not see him smile sadly.

Sherlock went to sit in his chair, feet on the coffee table, hands steepled under his chin. He wondered how he'd be able to make it through this time while John decided what he'd do about their relationship.

ooo


	5. On the way to the London Zoo

Please note: I WILL ONLY POST ch. 1 to 5 ON FFnet because after that the rating would be MA on FFnet, which one is not allowed to post on FFnet! - This story is rated E on archiveofourown, where you can look at the tags to see whether you may want to read it. In addition to ch. 1 to 5, chapters 6 and up are already posted at: archiveofourown dot org then paste /works/3968104/chapters/8901034 after org (I'm Cyclamen on Ao3) A few chapters have trigger warnings!

* * *

 **Chapter 5: On the way to the London Zoo**

John brought their mugs from the kitchen, settled himself in his own chair.

"Thanks, John. I'm texting Greg again to see if he can give me at least a cold case." It was Saturday, one day after he'd been at NSY. Since John had made it clear this morning that he did not want certain aspects of Sherlock's attention at this time, a case was the only thing he thought could bring relief to his mind that still appeared to be mostly occupied with John.

John's laptop was already on the coffee table. He checked his blog for new comments and e-mail. An audible hiss indicated that he must have found and read Sherlock's e-mail.

 _Did he look at the link?_ Sherlock braced himself in case John's reaction was not favorable.

"Sherlock! You sent me a link to a website with homosexual content?" John reminded himself he should take a deep breath, maybe even leave the room for a minute, before he'd tie into Sherlock and possibly say things he would regret later.

"Yes, I did. It is tasteful, in my opinion. Have you looked at it? Of course you don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, I haven't looked at it yet." John got up to compose himself in the bathroom, closed the door behind him.

He put his hands on either side of the sink, hung his head. Then he looked at his worried face in the mirror. _Why? Why me? Why now? I don't want to hurt him. I like Jamie. What does he see in me? What do I tell him? God give me wisdom._

After he'd splashed some water on his face and dried it he made his way back to his chair. Sherlock looked slightly worried. John didn't want to crush him.

"So. Please don't send me any other links with homosexual content! I'm not sure I'm going to look at this. It **is** all fine! You know I stand by that. But, please, respect my sexual orientation as it is right now. I do realize these things are not set in stone. Sometimes things change. But this is not something that can be forced! You cannot force me to love you romantically, or sexually!" John was leaning forward by now, delivering these words with cross hairs precision.

Sherlock nodded, hugely relieved to hear 'not set in stone'. "You're right. Of course nothing and no one can force you to feel things for me that you don't feel. I was not trying to manipulate you, believe me. Just thought it might help in case one of the reasons for your hesitation is the physical aspect. Besides, if you'd want to be together but not have sex, I'm prepared to forego sex for your benefit. I hope in that case we could hold hands and cuddle lots, and kiss sometimes." Yes, of course Sherlock had run that scenario as well!

John closed his eyes, sighed in exasperation. "Right. Forego for my benefit. I didn't even know you were interested in sex, with me of all people! Cuddling? Christ, Sherlock, you are unbelievable!" John remembered the feeling of Serlock's lips so tender on his palm which left no doubt that Sherlock was capable of doing the things he was talking about. John just never had thought Sherlock would want to do such things with anybody since he had said he was "married" to his work.

"As you said yourself: Sometimes things change. I'd like to cuddle with you right now. Why are you so surprised?"

John realized that something really must have changed in Sherlock. Before they wouldn't have sat here having this type of frank conversation.

John needed to know. "What changed?"

"Simple, John: You know The Work we do can be dangerous. Life is too short. I couldn't take the risk of either or both of us dying without me having told you how I feel about you. - I'm being realistic, and practical." Sherlock's voice had grown quieter as he spoke, by the end he was unseeingly staring at the coffee table.

"That's profound." Sherlock looked up at John. "You know I'm still going out with Jamie. We're going to the Zoo with Lucy in a bit."

Sherlock acknowledged this with a nod. "Can you please let me know what behavior and touches you can accept from me at this time? I don't want to overstep your 'boundaries'."

"I will, certainly. I still love you as my friend, Sherlock."

"I know."

Since Sherlock had paid for the groceries earlier, John had decided he could afford to pay for Jamie's entrance fee as well. Lucy was almost three, so still could get in for free, that's why Jamie wanted to take her now. From the London Zoo website he purchased tickets online - not cheap! - printed them off, along with a map, which he put in his coat pocket already. In order to save money he packed some water, a cheese sandwich and some grapes in a small backpack. Jamie had said she'd bring food for herself and Lucy as well, they'd find a bench or picnic table somewhere.

Soon it was time to leave. John put on his coat and the backpack. Sherlock, who had been typing on his computer in the meantime, came over to see him off.

"Have a good time then. Return safely."

"Thanks. Keep in touch in case something comes up with Greg. See you later."

John appreciated Sherlock's consideration for his boundaries. He felt like ruffling Sherlock's hair, to tell him not to worry. Instead he stepped into Sherlock's personal space and gave him a brief hug for goodbye. Sherlock returned the embrace lightly, without pressure.

ooo

John had agreed to meet Jamie and Lucy in front of the Zoo main entrance. There were various ways to get there from Baker Street. He opted to take some paths through Regent's Park, to use the time to think about his situation with Sherlock.

He noticed that he was not in the same place with Jamie, as Sherlock was with him. Anybody could die anytime, for example from a ruptured aneurysm or heart attack his medical knowledge provided, but that fact was not the reason why he wanted to go out with Jamie. They had just recently met, he found her attractive, neither of them knew how things would work out. She wasn't even officially his girlfriend yet, nor he her boyfriend. Having kissed once didn't make them that.

John realized that from Sherlock's perspective he had a valid reason to want to be with John. They had lived together for several years, knew each other's idiosyncrasies, and were best friends. Sherlock already felt what he did for John, was deliberate about asking him out. If John was right Sherlock's intentions were for the long term, serious.

With the girlfriends he'd had in the past he had enjoyed sex. For John sex was part of being human, nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. If he had a life partner, of course he'd like to have sex with that person, to express their love for each other, while they both were physically capable. And here was Sherlock, clearly very interested, yet willing to 'forego it for John's benefit' should he not want it. John shook his head. That Sherlock could indeed be this unselfish was astounding. Maybe later tonight, in the privacy of his bedroom, John could look at that link Sherlock had sent him to find out whether he could picture himself having sex with a man.

Absorbed in his own thoughts, he was following paths in the general direction of London Zoo. A tall tanned man with an Asian looking woman by his side was coming towards John. He was almost two heads taller than her, his right arm draped over her shoulder, while her left arm circled behind his waist. _Couple in love_ , John registered. They looked quite comfortable with each other, hips bumping against the other's body occasionally.

"Hello, Dr. Watson," the man greeted, passing John with a quick nod.

John paid attention at hearing his name, stopped and turned around. "Excuse me, do I know you?"

The couple turned towards him. "We haven't met. I'm Peter Barnes, a friend of Sherlock's. This is my girlfriend Amy Choi. Sherlock had mentioned that you help him with cases. I recognized you from your picture on your blog. It's nice to finally meet you in person," Peter said with an enthusiastic smile extending his hand to shake John's.

John shook Peter's and Amy's hand. He hadn't been aware that Sherlock had another friend besides him. "How did you meet?" John wondered why Sherlock had not mentioned Peter to him before.

"It was several years back, he needed a place to stay, so I offered..." Peter kept it vague, didn't want to elaborate not knowing what Sherlock had shared with John about that time in his life. "He hasn't met Amy."

Was this the classmate from Uni Sherlock had mentioned? Or one of his 'encounters-out-of-necessity'? Sherlock had needed drugs, and Peter had offered to give him some at his place in exchange for - what? John felt defensive of Sherlock, not knowing the details, and his face showed he had questions.

Peter tried to clarify, looking briefly at Amy. Which told John that Amy didn't know any of this about Peter or Sherlock. "It's not what you think, Dr. Watson. I'm sure he'll answer your questions if you ask him. It's part of his past, not my place to tell." Again Peter looked at Amy, making it clear to her as well that he would not share any further details about this.

Peter appeared sincere, John gave him credit for telling him to ask Sherlock directly. "I'm meeting a friend and her daughter at the Zoo in a bit. It was nice to meet you! And I will ask Sherlock. Enjoy the rest of your day," John said politely, turning to continue on his way.

ooo

Back at Baker Street, Sherlock was thinking about his situation with John as well, how it could be helped along. Being honest with John was good. But having seen Jamie again this morning at Tesco's begged the question whether John found Jamie more attractive than Sherlock because she didn't dress in designer clothes like Sherlock did most of the time, because she had a more 'natural' look about her?

Would John find him more attractive if he dressed more 'natural' as well? Sherlock pondered this only briefly, then decided to go shopping to put this theory to the test. There probably were shops that sold designer 'natural'-looking clothes made from materials like hemp, bamboo, linen, wool, for instance, he'd just have to find one. He would still have designer clothes, probably less form fitting, and John could enjoy the more 'natural' look on him. Hopefully.

ooo


End file.
